This Time Imperfect
by cupcakeee
Summary: It seemed as if everything had shattered, they had lost everything so easily, so without warning. Now, three years later, they are still digesting the ordeal that brokeup one School Of Rock. With the help of a certain musical though, could this be fixed?
1. Prologue

Alrightly, my loves, if any of you find this story to be...well, familiar? That's because it is. Almost two years ago, when I was still writing under the name: xobadrhymer03, this is a story that I had started up. And, frankly, it had sucked, really hard. Last night though, I started talking to one of my very old and very close friends and...I just seemed to draw inspiration from her. Anyway, I had always liked this story, even if it bit. Now, don't be too harsh, please? I know, I suck, I'm really trying again though.

**Disclaimer:** I do not own the School Of Rock or anything having to do with it whatsoever. All right are reserved to Paramount Pictures and the amazing Mike White, of course.

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It was a generally typical afternoon, an afternoon that the inhabitants of Staten Island had gradually become use to over the years. A day that you could barely refer to as anything less or more than usual. On this sort of day, through the sound of heavy traffic and droning of a plethora of voices wandering around the buzzing streets, there was another little "something" that everyone in this area had become so use to: the sound of rock music. An audio sample that could barely be referred to as anything lower than significant; at least coming from the individuals playing it. There had been something off about that day though, the simple May afternoon, even through the gracious amount of sunlight and creeping summer heat, it was obvious that this not the case today. There was no music, no laughter, nothing more than the sound of bickering and pain-laced voices.

If you were to witness the scene, it would have almost been as heart-breaking as the sounds of the young teenager's voices. Well, if you had become familiar with their story. It had been somewhat of a dream, a scenario that many musicians had been wishing for their entire careers. And it had been dropped into the hands of these children on such short notice, without any warning whatsoever, at the mere age of ten. Dewey Finn had wandered into their prestigious prep school, wanting nothing more than some extra cash, he has no idea at all that he was become wrapped up in something so unexpected, in a bunch of fifth graders. Who would have thoughts? So much talent bunched up into those little twerps, as he had liked to refer to them as at the time. It was the truth though, they had been amazing for their age, and only seemed to become better with time.

Even though it had begun as a simple hobby, a way for them to get out of school work, it had turned into something much more in the long-run, a little something that they would take into their lives. They had no idea how important this "side-project" was going to become, how much of their young lives would have been devoted to it. Well, at least three years of it. It had been so mind-boggling for everyone at first, how could these little kids do that? Just...how could they? It was something that many would never really get, that small group of budding musicians knew exactly what they were doing though: making a life, building up towards something that would hopefully lead them to higher places. And this had seemed to work, hell, they had even been recording a demo, their band manager, Summer, gradually beginning to scope out to right clubs for them to plain, hoping that they were to be spotted by the right scout. It was a great life, even if some just loved the fact that they had a way to get out of school work at times, though most of the others were very serious about the whole thing, especially the man who had founded the band. If he was so serious though, how could he let everything crumble apart so easily and for such a pathetic reason?

"I don't get it," Summer said, her fair colored skin seeming to lighten a few shades, turning an extremely pasty color, her already fragile looking exterior only seeming to make her appear weaker. "Why do you have to leave?"

"I already explained this to you: No Vacancy needs me again!" Dewey Finn exclaimed, his mop of chestnut colored hair flying in every possible direction. "I knew that they were going to come whining back to moi sooner-or-later, I mean, _come on_! Who can really resist the Dewey Finn? Come on! Work with me here!"

The air seemed to become particularly thick at this moment, the heaving breathes of fifteen very confused, very angered children seeming to be cause of this. What the hell was this man talking about? How could they resist him? He hadn't really changed very much since they'd thrown him out of the sell-out of a band! Alright, he had sobered up and become way more insightful about many things, it really didn't seem as if the men in that band would have cared about this sort of thing. They were already ten times as dark and crusty as Dewey had been before-hand. It just made no sense to any of them, whatsoever.

"Fuck that," sputtered out a very angry sounding voice, this voice belonging to none other than Alicia Allen. "You're just in it for the goddamn money, what other reason could there possibly be? You would have pushed us to the curb right after the Battle of the Bands if it hadn't been for all that buzz," she paused, drawing in a breath of air. "_You_ just don't want us anymore." It was just like her to be straight-forward like that, she had always been the "voice" of the band, the one person who was never really afraid to speak-up about anything and, basically, everything. Well, there was always Freddy; he was just a bit more spontaneous.

"No, that is...not that isn't true, not at all. How could you guys even think that?" Dewey asked, a bewildered expression replacing the seemingly calm one that had been there only moments earlier. "If you would just let me _explain_...,"

"Yes, it is. Alicia is right," Katie Brown commented, her chocolate brown colored eyes sparkling with anger, an emotion that was not usually present within this girl at all. "You're just in it for the fame, fortune and groupie: the whole sex, drugs and rock and roll complex."

Mr. Dewey Finn already seemed to become desperate, trying to search for a way to make these kids understand the complexity of this entire situation. Whatever that certain "complexity" turned out to be? Well, he wasn't even sure of it himself at that moment. He just needed to think of something convincing, something that would keep them off his backs until he was actually sure of everything. "No, no, no! You all don't understand!" He exclaimed, the pleading tone in his voice barely seeming to get to these kids, to say the least. "We need this, we really do."

"It's not "_we_" anymore," Leonard Infante retorted, the sound of his voice just as bitter as the rest who had spoken. "Has it ever actually been?"

In the midst of the brewing argument, the tear stricken Marta Hale was barely to be noticed, curled up at the end of a certain shag textured couch, trying to take everything she was hearing in. The girl just wouldn't have it though, this wasn't occurring. Dewey wasn't going to let them go that easily, he had to actually be doing this for their own good. "Shut up, you guys! Just...shut up! Dewey is not in this for the money," she managed out, sniffling lightly. "He's going to help us make it big."

A plethora of eyes quickly turned toward the petite blonde, the mixed emotion seeming to cast an even thicker tone to the room. With some that were agreeing with the girl, and others that were stictly against what she was stating, it was bound to cause some confusion, if not really meant to in the first place. The one person with enough nerve to speak though just had to be the most outspoken of them all; her dark eyes glaring in the direction of the back-up vocalist. "Get a clue, Blondie," Alicia said. "This is a ditch, a permanent ditch. Will you ever be able to push past your giddy little exterior and see that? Or has all that hydrogen peroxide really eaten away at your brain cells?"

Marta forced her cerulean colored eyes upon her the girl, a flash of rage blitzing throughout them. "Shut the hell up, your stupid little whore," she said, her teeth metal laced teeth grinding against each other, from top to bottom. She had never been the greatest when it came to defending herself, to be honest, the girl had always ran to either Freddy or Alicia when in need of some verbal (or occasionally: physical) back-up. Well, she knew that she could knock Alicia off that list, as of that very moment.

Alicia pounced up from her seated position, even her stance flaring with fury. "Oh no, you did _not_ just go there," she exclaimed. "No, you didn't." The girl made her way towards the much smaller Marta, grabbing a hold of her wrist.

"Maybe I did," Marta replied, her eyes squinting up into a weak glare. She had never done very well at this sort of thing either; it hadn't taken her very much to whip Alicia's hand away from her own though, jumping to her feet. Oh my, the last thing that they all needed at that moment was a cat-fight. Hell no, for as long as this band had been together, there had been nothing worse than a few insults thrown around. And those had only come from Summer, when she was trying to Freddy why his intelligence was so inferior to the rest of theirs.

The raven haired girl had known just when to jump right into the...conversation though, seeing as she hadn't really wanted to say much more than she had earlier, at least until the needed time. "Calm down! We need to work this out, to be rational. Come on, we're thirteen, not eleven." And, it was the truth, even if they were considerably young; they all needed to learn how to deal with this sort of situation. Alright, this wasn't an exactly normal thing for people their age to go through; it certainly didn't mean that it was alright to act like much...younger children.

"No, we can't calm down, Summer," blurted none other than Zach Mooneyham. "This is bad, really horrible. And all you've been doing is watching us? Not speaking up at all?" He was an amazing guitarist, yes, but the kid had never been the greatest at speaking. It was only around these certain individuals that he had been able to actually be, well, himself. Still though, he had always run to Summer when he really had something important to say, or, hell, even when he had come up with an idea for a song. It looked as if this wasn't going to be occurring anytime soon though.

"Zach! I can't control _everything_!" Summer exclaimed, beginning to chew rather violently upon her bottom lip. And, this was the truth. For as long as the band had been together and happy, she had been the stability, with minor help for Dewey. She was the one who was supposed to deal with everything, business wise. She was the one who needed to have everything perfect, who had to have every little detail stringed together correctly. They had no idea how horribly difficult this had always been for her, and seemed as if they had never really bothered to notice, or care for that matter.

Zach shot a rather confused expression in the direction of the girl everyone had begun to refer to as a pixie, the girl that he had begun to become so envious of. How couldn't she know what to do? She knew everything, didn't she? Ah, the ignorance. "You have to though!" Zach yelled, throwing his arms up into the air. "Quit being idiotic and figure this out! Fix it!"

"Fix it? How can I fix it?" Summer exclaimed, slamming her clipboard on to the coffee table conveniently placed in front of her. "I am not your slave; I can't do everything for you!" And, yet again, it was another true comment, a completely true one. "Oh my God, you guys are just so...exasperating!" The girl jumped to her feet, ripping the plastic clipboard off the table, turning towards the guitarist once again. "I quit!" And, with that, she stomped towards the doorway, pushing herself through the entrance and out of the life that she had grown to know and love so greatly.

"I can't take this, I quit too." Alicia gave a final glance to her former band mates, grasping a hold of her backpack and making her way out of the apartment, just as the girl in front of her had done. The sounds of some wooden objects ricocheted throughout the small room, which had only recently become blank, the thick air finally disappearing, only to be refilled with something much worse: something cold.

"Oh my God, this is bad, isn't it? This is...really, really bad," Freddy Jones commented, his eyes becoming wide and filled with emotion. An emotion that not a single one of his band mates had ever come in contact with before, one they barely seemed to care about noticing, the sound of plastic soles clicking off the wooden flooring catching their attention.

"I quit too," Marta whispered, giving a small shake of her head, a shake filled with disbelief. How could this be happening? Why had they just fallen apart like that so easily? Had they ever been very strong in the first place? Apparently not. "Bye," she muttered, fading into the mildewing hallway.

There was awkward sort of silence and, suddenly, not a single soul seemed to know what to do. At that moment, there really couldn't have been a right-or-wrong action to take. Even if the good amount of members left in that room were still dependent on the existence of that band, it was obvious that getting the other members back wouldn't have been very easy, if even possible at all. Everyone gradually begun to flutter away though. Each and every one of them seeming to go with a bitter exit, whether this be through words or something as simple as a glare. Dewey Finn was heart-broken; he had wanted nothing more than to keep those kids together, to help them grow stronger. And now he wasn't even sure if returning to No Vacancy had been that great of an idea. Come on, they had referred to him as being washed-up. It was already too late though, far too late.

To some, this might have seemed like something that could have been fixed easily. A little wound, nothing more than a scrape or bruise. If someone were to think this, they obviously hadn't felt the bond that these kids had developed, something that had seemed to be unbreakable. Now, they were completely aware that not everything was what it seemed. If they could break away from each other so easily, had that bond every actually been filled completely in the first place? This was something that seemed as if it could never be answered, not after everything that had occurred. And, it only seemed to become much worse from that point on. The friendships that had become so strong had been broken so quickly, without any warning. And not a single one of those kids seemed to speak with each other anytime soon, if at all. It all just seemed to crack, everything was lost, eschewed. School Of Rock was no more.

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Aha! There you go, I was actually able to spit that all out! And, in record time too. I'm thinking about...two hours, if even that. It has to be horrible though, if I got it out that easily. I would love some reviews on this though or, more so, as many as your lovely bystanders can muster up. I already love you all, and your writings are still extremely amazing after all this time, I just love receiving...your love. And, the more reviews that I receive? The shorter amount of time it will take for my next chapter to be up. Ily. 3

xo kissmehelectric teh Brittany


	2. The Missing Frame

A/N: Hell yes! I recived three reviews! Whoo! Alright, this may not be the greatest amount of reviews but, hey, at least I got some. And, to the three people that went out of their way to review my work? Ily. Like whoa too. I'd love if a lot more people commented on this story though, I've written my ass off for like...four hours. Either way though, I'll still love you.

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**Chapter One:**

Marta Hale pulled her mass of lengthy, strawberry-blonde colored hair into a messy pony-tail, taking a few odd seconds to look over physical appearance. She couldn't help but scoff in disgust, who was she really kidding? It would never do her any good, even remotely trying to spiff up herself up, she was barely apt to make that large of a presence anyway. She wasn't kidding anyone, apparently. My God, had she actually been planning on fooling with anyone in the first place? No, she hadn't been. She was delusional; she was deceiving herself in the worst possible manner. That had to be, not a bit of any of this was actually truthful, and she was playing a little head-game. Hell, what if she had never actually been around in the first place?

The sixteen year old drew in a deep breath of air, shaking her head at this though. No, she wasn't actually delusional, or even trying to blunder herself in the slightest manner. She had been thinking like this for quite the amount of time now (or: at least for a few weeks), ever since learning of the exact day that school was going to start up once again. She had been dreading that fact that summer was coming to an end for awhile and for more than just one simple reason. There were two this time around, got that: two, not one, two. The first reason: over the last four years, the time in-between the end of one year and beginning of the next had been rather...bland? Yes, that was the exact word to use. Sure, there were some moments that she would never forget; there had barely been anything too amazing though. And this saddened her, to the greatest extent. This time around though, the summer had seemed to be...amazing. Or, generally speaking, was amazing.

You see, there had been this certain individual that the sixteen year old had come across, and not just any plain 'ol individual: a boy. If she were to say this, or even have thought this, the year earlier? Well, she would have considered getting herself some professional help. Alright, this may have been exaggerating it a bit, seeing as she had come across a few odd and, seemingly, interesting boys over the last few years. She had never really found anything too amazing with them though; the "amazement" had usually ended along the lines of their first actual kiss or on an odd numbered date. Marta had never done very well with odd numbers and, this, was one reason that she believed her relationships were so tainted. If she were to tell this to someone, they may have believed her to be crazy (giving her another reason to take that comment about finding some good professional help seriously), she wasn't going to be doing this anytime soon, if she could help it, though.

Ever since she had been a little girl, something had always seemed to go wrong during the years that...well; she was not an even numbered age. When she had been eleven, her father had suffered a heart attack. This, in her opinion, had been one of the most horrifying things that anyone could endure, seeing as she had been around at the time that it had occurred. And, to top that off, he was "forced" to undergo triple bypass surgery. Or, at least he had been telling her at this time that it was a forceful sort of action, even though she knew completely well that this was a lie. The next year had been a rather calm and uneventful one, steady flowing, and she had enjoyed it completely. The one thing that irked her even more into hating odd numbers though? The fact that, only a few odd months after her thirteenth birthday, School of Rock had broken up; just thinking about this made her heart ache still. And that was the exact reason why she was going to waver away from thinking about it. Now, her fifteenth year of life: horrible, horrible, horrible. It was during this time that both her grandmother and younger brother, Parker, had lost their lives.

Yes, her younger brother had lost his life. And this had been even worse of an ordeal than her father's heart attack; it had killed her even more than the band breaking up. Her grandmother had gone quite quickly and gracefully, in her sleep; it hadn't really surprised anyone, even if it was sad to say, seeing as how old she had become. They had celebrated her life, more than anything else, considering how amazing of one that she had led. Now, her little brother, this had been completely unexpected, to say the least. Parker had been walking around the area surrounding their neighborhood with a friend at the time of his death, just fooling around and having fun, like any little kid would have done at his age. He had barely noticed the car careening towards him though and honestly was never able to, seeing as he had been killed on impact. Marta had been in shock at this time, shunning off everyone around her. She had already lost so many people in her life, seeing as her parents had divorced five years before his death. She had been able to stay in New Jersey with her father while, on the other hand: her mother had been able to take her other siblings with her to New York City: her older sister, Cassidy, and twin brother, Hunter. It had seemed to be a double-sided sort of split, something that had pissed her off completely at the time. But, hey, at least she was still able to spend time with them, right? Right.

The sixteen year old took a final glance at her appearance in the full-length mirror in front of her, shaking her head once again; it was never going to get any better than this. It was really as if she could do anything about it though, whining was just going to make matters much worse. Her eyes traveled towards her futon, trying to scope out her messenger backpack, which barely seemed to take more than a few seconds. She made her way towards this object, picking it up and throwing it over her small shoulders, quickly making her way out of her bedroom. Her father had told her the evening before to meet him in the kitchen for some sort of breakfast fest, something in celebration of the start of her eleventh grade year. This had seemed corny to her and, technically, she would have much rather preferred getting to school earlier on that day, of all days, other than anything else. And, with that, she reached for the doorknob of her home's front entrance, briskly making her way out of her house and all-out front yard.

It was a seemingly nice day out; the sun was seeming to bulge from the sky, casting a less than thin amount of very bright and, very blinding, light upon everything in it's sight. Even though she would have just loved to enjoy this sort of weather, she really would have, it was more than a bit hard to do so, seeing as her mood was the complete opposite to the current weather. Dark, moody, pessimistic, bleak, downhearted, cynical, foreboding, gloomy, scornful, melancholy, sudden; generally? Unhappy, completely unhappy. It would have taken a thesaurus listed amount of terms to help explain this to anyone either, she could have used that one simple word to explain it all. Now, was there a particular reason for this emotion? Of course there was, she wasn't going to just wander around feeling like this without there being a good reason that would have been rather pathetic and rather emo, at that. It was just the fact that...well, she had not come in contact with many new friends since the break-up of that damned band, seeing as a good majority (or, generally, fifteen) of her classmates had been part of it to begin with. And, to make matters a bit worse, her best friend: Leah Hallstand, had moved up to Canada only a few months earlier. And that sucked extremely, it really did.

There really wasn't anything that she could do about it though, seeing as she really wasn't wanting to play hooky on the very first day of school; that would have looked rather horrible on her permanent record, wouldn't you say? Of course you would have, any would. Her light blue colored eyes shifted from the creamy gray colored pavement, locking onto the image in front of her: Horace Green. And, no, it wasn't her old and rather dread elementary school, it was the watered down and less strict version of it and, obviously enough, a high school. If to pick between either, she would have went with this school and without giving it a second though. The one reason? No uniforms, she was grateful for this one. It was a complete drag, having the wear the exact same thing every day, there was no expression of originality in that at all. She gently tugged at the bottom of her green tank top, being a very pretty shade of lime green, a light gray pull-over thrown over it. The color seemed to flatter her quite nicely, even if she was convinced otherwise. Her pair of dark wash blue jeans seemed to snug quite nicely to her thin legs, her black Converse complimenting her tiny feet. In whole, everything about Marta was small, she had always been very petite. This wasn't the point though, not at all.

She shook her head, beginning to make her way towards the steel metal entrance to what she now was going to refer to as: hell. Marta just wanted to get through with this day, get it done and over with, hopefully without a hitch. This little thought seemed to be shattered by...the sight of a rather familiar figure, someone that she hadn't really wanted to come in contact with today, if ever again. She cringed slightly, trying to push her way past a few individuals, wanting to just get into that building. It seemed to be a bit too late though, seeing as that very person had already made his way towards her, purposely knocking right into the girl, sending her straight to the ground. She groaned, her blonde locks bouncing off the very top step of the cemented staircase, her eyes flickering shut for a few odd moment. She hadn't been affected by the drop though, not in a physical way, she was still completely awake; she would have rather not been though. Marta was so far from wanting this right now, this is exactly what she had been dreading. Forcing her to open up at least one eye; she come in direct eye-contact with the very person that had knocked her down to the ground: Mr. Freddy Jones.

His chocolate brown colored eyes were flickering with mischievousness, and a hint of bitter pleasure, a small chuck falling from his lips. "Well, well, if it isn't little Marta Hale," he sneered.

Marta couldn't help but scoff in his direction, barely bothered to pull herself off the ground, it wasn't worth it at all, not at the moment. "Jones," she replied, glaring in the direction of the blonde haired boy.

"Oh my God, she spoke," Freddy commented, sarcasm running thick throughout the tone of his voice, that same little smirk still intact. "And I thought she had become mute, I mean, going a straight year without saying anything to the Freddy Jones? Unbelievable."

"Unbelievable? Why would I even consider speaking to you, Freddy? It's already difficult enough trying to look at your face; do you think conversing would be any easier?" Marta asked, quirking her right eyebrow slightly. It was the truth, she was sickened by even looking that kid in the eye, this being just what she was doing at the moment, God help her.

Freddy just snickered in response, spinning in the opposite direction of her, making his way through the entrance archway. Damn it, that kid made her so angry, even the smallest things that he did made her want to smack him across the face at times. He had always been one of the more stubborn members of the School Of Rock, even if he got more than a bit angered if someone would point this out, this only adding to the truth of it. He had always exhibited a heart of gold though, this being one reason why he had been one of her closest friends for over three years. She had loved just hanging around with him, acting as if there was not a care in the world. With the loss of the band though, everything had just seemed to be thrown back in his face though, his personality taking a complete three-sixty. And it hadn't been for the better, not at all. That band had meant everything to him; it had been the largest part of his life, so it wasn't that hard to believe that he had taken the break-up the hardest. Now, even at the mere age of thirteen, Freddy had turned toward a more...destructive path, than anything else. He had begun experimenting with both alcohol and drug around this time and, if all of those rumors floating around were correct, he had lost his virginity at the age of fourteen to some cheap hooker. It was a sad thing to hear, Marta couldn't help but believe it though, seeing as she had been whoring around and just going through woman so quickly ever since then. Hell, they even referred to him as the Horace Green Pimp, it was sad.

Marta was not usually one to make a fool out of herself, at least not directly; just laying on the cement like that was bound to raise a few eyebrows though. She just couldn't muster up enough dignity to actual jump up onto her feet, after all, that had been a pretty hard push. She would have much rather gotten trampled to death than entering that school also too, it was a two way thing at the moment. In the midst of her thoughts though, she had barely noticed the lanky framed boy making his way toward her, only noticing his presence when a hand was randomly shoved in her face. She blinked a few odd times, gazing in the direction of the boy's face, knowing who it was almost immediately afterwards: Zack Mooneyham. He was one of the only people that she actually still communicated with from the band, well, other than Summer; that was more of an acquaintance sort of deal though. She smiled softly in his direction, accepting his helping hand, the dark haired boy whisking her onto her feet.

"Thanks," she commented, dropping her hand from his to the side of her body, looking towards the ground for a few seconds. Marta raised her eyes once again, preparing to bring up something else, he was already gone though; completely out of sight.

She shrugged her shoulders, giving up on the kid like that. It was a quite usual thing for him to do, seeing as mysterious was most likely the best word that someone could use to explain that kid. He had been like that for a few years now; being labeled as more of a loner, than anything else. Sure, he could have been stereotyped as a rocker or something; it would have taken a few more words out of him for this to occur though. And, as far as she knew, it actually did take a lot to get something out of him nowadays. In the midst of Marta's thought, she had already entered her dreaded school, beginning to search for her first class of the day: a class that, somehow, meshed between English and Theater. She had no idea how, or why, they had done this. Alright, it probably hadn't taken very much; she had just wanted to sign up for an interesting class that year though. Now, where to go, where to go; the girl continued to wander throughout the corridors of her high school, her blue eyes finally catching sight of that certain classroom.

Placing a hand upon the doorknob, she turned it into the up-right direction, pushing her small frame into the classroom, shutting the door behind her. Marta couldn't help but be a bit taken aback by the certain individuals already seated in that classroom: most of the people that she had been dreading to see. She really didn't want to dwell completely on her past at that moment though, it was honestly becoming old. But, before she could have ultimately pushed these thoughts out of her mind, there was one other thing that she couldn't help but notice: the fact that there were only two available seat left in the damn room: the first one behind Katie Brown and the second directly behind...Freddy Jones. Her eyes widened slightly, somewhat bolting towards the seated behind Katie, which also happened to be the closest to her. She dropped her backpack onto the flooring, pulling out her notebook and a pencil; it seemed like the most logical thing to do.

Katherine Brown, otherwise known as Katie, was preoccupied with something other than the fact that their class was going to be starting soon; something else had popped into her mind. The fact that Marta Hale had just chosen a seat behind her; it was a bit odd, to say the least, seeing as how their relationship had been over the last few years. Alright, it hadn't been very much of a relationship, seeing as Katie had always seemed to become a bit secluded and bitter about things after...well, something of that extent had occurred. They had both changed so much, both personality and appearance-wise, and this was quite obvious. You see, Marta was convinced that Katie could kill or, generally, hex her. The whole scene involving the Sex Pistol, the Smiths and other related bands had really seemed to get to the girl and this was proved by her mere appearance; everything from fishnet stockings to black, hooker boots and Marta? She was more casual, than anything else, casual and cute. This is basically how she had always been anyways.

"Uhm, Hi," Katie said, bluntly, if even that. It seemed logical to actually acknowledged the girl's presence, you know, it wasn't as if she'd completely ignore her or anything; even if she was convinced that Marta despised her.

"Hey," Marta replied, quickly and, in an almost too quick manner, at that. She was surprised that the girl had even taken a moment of her time to speak to her, if not waste time on her; whatever though.

Katie wouldn't even bother saying anything more because, as she had thought only moment earlier, she was convinced that the girl hated her. Well, she wasn't absolutely sure, she wouldn't have been very surprised to hear that it was the truth though. It wasn't even worth thinking about, the dark haired girl turning her full attention to the entrance of the classroom, in which a young woman had just came from; a very young woman, at that. She raised her eyebrow slightly, wondering where she had come from and, most importantly, why she was there. The woman ran a hand through her golden blonde colored hair, seating herself at the very front of the classroom, behind a rather luscious looking oak desk.

"Alright, everyone take a seat," the woman said, raising her hand into the air slightly. She paused for a few odd moment, waiting for the teenagers to contain themselves before speaking once again. "Thank you, now, my name is Ms. Larway, and I'll be your teacher for the entirety for this year. Now, some of you may be wondering: why exactly are you taking this class? Well, for one, it is one of the newly listed additions to your list of classes and two? It's just amazing, no lie, I am determined to make your year a completely comfortable and fun one."

"Ah!" Freddy exclaimed, pounding his fisted hands upon the surface of his desk. "Fun, now, that's what I'm talking about; the kind of fun that I tend to enjoy?"

"Well, that really depends," Ms. Larway commented, her brown eyes flicking with some sort of excitement, something that most of the students hadn't seen coming from a teacher in such a long amount of time. "What do you consider to be fun?"

"Wowza, where shall I begin?" Freddy asked, his lips upturned into his usual smirk. "Drinking, smoking, pimping. You know the usual."

Ms. Larway gazed in the direction of the blonde haired boy, blinking a few odd times before deciding to speak once again. "The usual, eh, I'm sorry to burst your little bubble but, you won't be doing any of those things in my classroom, or anywhere in this school."

Freddy drew in a deep breath of air, releasing it in a completely faux upsetting sigh, something that was quite obvious to the majority of his classmates. "Damn, that sucks," he said.

"Ah, it's a good thing that one of you cracked so quickly. That's one thing: I have never really been too...offended with obscene language, so, as long as it isn't too offending to others, cursing will not be prohibited," Ms. Larway commented, giving a quick nod of her head. "Well, any word other than "fuck" and the obvious."

In the very back of the classroom, there was a quite auditable scoff, coming from none other than the...well, one of the most verbose eleventh graders around: Alicia Allen. "Oh my God, a teacher just said fuck, it looks as if the world is going to spin off its axis," she said, her voice laced with sarcasm.

"Hmm, the careless teenager complex, I can pick that out by just the tone of sarcasm in your voice. I'm not very dim-witted," Ms. Larway said, rising from her seated position, beginning to make her way towards Alicia. "I was once one too, that really isn't the point though. Now, who might you be?"

Alicia gave a quick roll of her eyes, gazing up towards the seemingly tall woman at her side. "Alicia Allen."

"Alicia, it's nice to meet you, I'm hoping that your sarcastic little quirks will become a little less rude during later conversations though. I would really hope so," Ms. Farway commented, beginning to walk towards the classroom once again. "Now, seeing as this class is more than partially dedicated to the amazing subject of theater, all of you are going to get the chance to participate in the spring production. I was given permission from Mr. Leto, who usually runs the spring musical, to take over his spot for right now."

When the woman stopped speaking, the reaction to her comment was more than a bit mixed, a combination of both groans and excited squeals meeting with her eardrum. She shook her head slightly, being a bit disappointed with the less enthusiastic students; she really couldn't do very much about that at the moment though, even if she was determined to bait them in the lighter direction though. In the midst of her thought, she barely heard a very excited voice emerge from the rear of the classroom, catching onto it almost too late. "I love acting," the voice echoed lightly through the spacious, white colored room. Everyone or what seemed to be, turned in the direction that the voice had emerged from, making contact with the frame of Summer Hathaway.

Ms. Larway couldn't help but smile at this comment, beginning to make her way towards the girl, her black stiletto heals clicking against the tiled flooring. "Ah, enthusiasm, finally and...,"

"Summer Hathaway," Summer broke in, not really caring that she had interrupted her teacher's speech completely. She raised her hand up to her cheek, the tips of her fingers shaking lightly.

The blonde haired teacher couldn't help but notice this, raising her eyebrow slightly. "If you don't mind me asking, why are your hands shaking?"

"Ah, that's just the caffeine," Summer commented, giving a rather violent nod of her head, causing the girl to feel a slight twinge of pain with the back of her neck; she raised her hand towards her skin, beginning to massage the area lightly.

She gave a light nod of her head, somewhat satisfied with Summer's answer. "And you might be?" She asked, coming across none other than Katie Brown herself.

Katie couldn't help but be a bit taken aback by this, seeing as she was usually one the last people that a teacher actually considered to take notice of. "Katie Brown," she replied. The sound of her voice was quickly interrupted by the little less than subtle coughing, matching with a voice that could have come from either a male or female, blurting out a obscenity that sounded somewhat like "slut."

"Shut up!" Katie exclaimed, glaring in the direction that voice her come from, her eyes traveling down the wooden frame of her desk. She was seemingly use to these comments by now, seeing as they had been thrown at her for at least two years now, it still hurt to hear them though, even if she didn't usually admit this to anyone.

"That is beyond intolerable, if I would have caught on to who said that? You'd be stamped with noon detention, you're lucky. But, please, don't even considered saying something like that again," Ms. Larway commented, giving a shake of her head, all while returning back to her desk. "Alright, I'm going to give the rest of the hour for you to chat with one another, I'm going to some of my paperwork out and ultimately decide on what the musical will be."

The sound of shrugs and sighs echoed throughout the classroom, around with the soft rustling of paper, among other things, now, for Marta? Just getting the entire hour to "chat" was not the great of things; now, if Leah would have still been living up in New Jersey? She would have loved the fact that a teacher would have gratefully given them an hour to talk. But, knowing that most of the people in the classroom were still holding an idiotic grudge against each other? It was far from actually being very fun, to say the least. She shook her head, flipping to the first page of her newly purchased notebook, beginning to randomly doodle and sketch upon the empty page. The next forty minutes seemed to fly by all too quickly though, the sixteen year old girl becoming lost in her sketching, only being brought out of her little trance by the sound of her teacher's soft voice.

"Decisions, decisions, right? But, I'm happy to say that this one was barely difficult. I had been deliberating between "Grease" and "West Side Story", I've decided to go with the most logical and seemingly classic choice though: "Grease"," Ms. Larway said, a bright smile gracing her thin lips.

The room was filled with both excited and dreaded sounding whispers, something that seemed to become quite expected now, the multiple reactions. The new teacher was barely surprised by this, leaning back slightly in her chair, waiting for someone to come out and speak on her decision. And that person just happened to be the one who had been most enthusiastic about the whole ordeal in the first place: Summer. ""Grease"?" She asked, the sound of excitement ringing throughout her voice.

Ms. Larway gave a quick nod of her head, that same smile intact still. "Yes, the class," she replied. Summer let out a light squeal, bouncing slightly out of her seat, one being very surprised by this. She was usually that bouncy, if not more, it was strange to not see little Miss Hathaway nearly bouncing off the walls.

Marta scrunched up her nose slightly, suddenly becoming lost in her thoughts about this very play. She had never been very extremely, extremely fond of acting as a whole; it had always been an alternative to both music and writing though. And, just because of this, she couldn't help but wonder whether or not it'd be a horrible idea to try out for the play, seeing as she already loved it. Hell, she knew the entire plot-line by heart, seeing as they had watched "Grease" on so many odd occasions, the girls at least, during the time that School of Rock had actually been together and stable. But, yet again, the petite girl forced these thoughts out of her mind, seeing as the bell signifying the end of her first hour of the year. She just couldn't help but dwell back on all of those days once again, no matter how hard she had been trying to push these out of the way. And it honestly sucked, she hated when something like this ate away at her brain, especially when she was trying to get somewhere, at that. In the midst of her completely unwanted thoughts though, she barely noticed the girl walking in her direction, only becoming aware of her prescience when they rammed into one another, their supplies scattering all over the area surrounding them, sending both girls to the floor.

Damn it, the second time in two hours, how lovely. Marta let out a soft ground, quickly jumping to her feet, gazing down at the girl that she had knocked over: Summer. She cringed lightly, holding out a hand for her to grasp onto, in which the other girl accepted gratefully, being back on her feet once again quite quickly afterwards. "Ahhh," she annunciated. "I'm sorry."

"No, it was my fault," Summer replied, giving a quick nod of her head, beginning to pick up her supplies, seeing as the both of them hadn't had very much with them to begin with. A small smile was placed across her cherry colored lips, a very warm and inviting smile, at that.

"No, it was mine, seriously," Marta said, shaking her head, bending over the pick up her pencil and notebook.

"Alright, it'd be completely idiotic to argue about something so...well, stupid. So, let's just say that it was both of our faults," Summer commented, chuckling lightly. "Are you excited for the play?"

Marta brightened up a bit, a small smile gracing her lips. "Oh God, yes, I love that play," she replied.

"Tell me about it, it's amazing and...," Summer paused, scrunching up her nose slightly. "I really miss the old days, don't you?"

"Oh...yeah, I do too. I mean, I really do," Marta said, chewing softly on her bottom lip, a little nervous habit that she had gradually picked up over the years. "I mean, did I ever say anything to you that was...too hurtful? Or like something that I had said to Alicia?"

Summer quickly shook her head, a weak smile falling upon her lips. "No, not at all, which is why I don't get why we never talk or anything," she commented. "We could still be friends, you know, it wouldn't be the horrible of a thing, right?"

"Are you kidding me? Horrible, never." Marta replied, a full-on grin replacing the phony smile that had laid there once before. "I would have given anything back then to be friends with you again, nothing better than now either."

"Ah, oh my God, I've missed you so much, Marta. You have no idea!" Summer exclaimed, throwing her arms around the other girl in a rather tight laced hug.

"I have no idea? Come on! I've been the same exact way!" Marta replied, graciously returning to hug, and in an even tighter manner. "We should meet up at lunch, catch up and such."

"Absolutely," Summer commented. "I'll meet you there, alright? See 'ya."

And, with that, Summer hurried down the hallway down to her next class, in which Marta was completely clueless about. Well, it must have been something special, seeing she had actually ran to the class and all. Well, this was Summer Hathaway that we were talking about though; she had to have at least a little bit of the old Pixie in her, just as a little Blondie was still in her. The thought of this little nickname caused a rather warm feeling to spread throughout her body, something that had not come along with any thought about the band in over three years now. Marta couldn't help but smile brightly this fact. Hell, maybe she had been overreacting lately, and those even numbers just seemed to do her well once again.


End file.
